


Love As Blue And Rainbow Feathers

by Aaron_The_8th_Demon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Castiel Possessing Dean Winchester, Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Fuck you canon Gabriel lives, Internalized Homophobia, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Light Angst, M/M, Major Character Injury, Past Child Abuse, Season/Series 13, Slow Burn, This fic is fully written i'm just posting it on a schedule because reasons, Wingfic, like this fic was supposed to be an angst-fest and it turned into the fluffiest fucking thing, lol oops, so much god damn fluff okay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:27:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29372334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aaron_The_8th_Demon/pseuds/Aaron_The_8th_Demon
Summary: Narrowly escaping death in an alternate reality?Grievous injuries with only the most outrageous solutions available?Pranks as a form of flirting?Unresolved sexual tension driving everyone else nuts?Teaching a toddler how to fight an archangel and actually stand a chance of winning?Juggling a bunker of refugees and the problems in Heavenandthe threat of the devil himself?Only on any day ending in Y for the Winchesters.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gabriel/Sam Winchester
Comments: 8
Kudos: 49





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> At the time that I'm posting the first chapter, eleven chapters have been written so far and there will be more than that by the end of the creation process.
> 
> As noted in the tags, this fic was _not_ supposed to be mostly fluff, but here we are. Normally I have the opposite and much more common problem that if I try to write something cute and fluffy it just turns into a ball of suffering. Oh well.

The rules are usually different for archangels. Y’know. For… reasons.

Example: normal angels can’t survive very long off borrowed grace. Yeah, Gabriel knows all about that. When you’re walking around in apocalypse-world with your baby brother and his bonehead human pals, there’s not much to do between random fights but talk about this shit. Castiel’s misadventures in cannibalism randomly came up as a topic of conversation at some point before the vampire-infested mine. But, like Gabriel told Castiel, it’s different for archangels. If he really wanted to, he could give himself a power boost by sucking on the life force of another archangel and have pretty much zero problems.

There is one thing that every celestial being has in common, though. A glitch in their programming that just couldn’t get ironed out during production and beta-testing. From lowly cherubim, to ordinary angels, to powerful seraphs and all-powerful archangels like himself, all of them will freeze because their motor function goes haywire if their necks are cut and the bulk of their grace becomes exposed. It’s a little bit similar to a human’s response to being stabbed in a vital organ, or having a long bone broken.

It’s a weird combo of circumstances. Gabriel went into this cosmic knife-fight pretty much knowing he would get killed. Archangel blade in his palm, Lucifer watching in silence and for some reason  _ not helping, thanks bro, _ the Winchesters standing by and waiting because they’re idiots like that when they should be fleeing through that rift and never looking back. But this Michael isn’t as powerful as his own Michael. More like a made-in-China imitation brand that sells for two dollars less. And Gabriel - Gabriel just has that one critical moment of dumb luck.

It doesn’t seem like it at first. He’s low on juice, juice that takes up to a century to recharge on its own (fuck you very much, Asmodeus). Michael’s archangel blade reams through Gabriel’s shoulder, all the way to poke out the other side, something that would be fatal if it hit him anywhere else in his torso. And yet. That’s all the window he needs.

Gabriel isn’t the master of warfare, that’s not his job, he’s the youngest of the four of them and he was meant to watch over mankind and play messenger once in awhile to the denizens of the swishy blue planet. But he’s also not stupid, or easily distracted by pain. And he manages to slash open alt-Michael’s neck.

It’s not… the worst thing ever. Swallowing come has a way grosser and more intrusive flavor. Until now Gabriel’s felt like his whole vessel is powered on a dead AA battery, and not even the fancy lithium ones but just the cheap ordinary kind. And within the span of seconds every cell of the body he inhabits has been plugged into an actively fissioning nuclear reactor. Gabriel is juiced again.

Gabriel wrenches the archangel blade out of his shoulder and smites the depowered alt-Michael without even touching him. This is great news all around, but it still leaves one  _ tiny _ thing unaddressed.

“Alright, let’s blow this popsicle stand!” Lucifer grins, still watching from a safe distance.

“How do you think this is gonna go?” Gabriel demands. His wings splay behind him angrily. “The Winchesters will let you roam free to destroy their world? Or that  _ I _ would let you do that either? Nice try, Lucy. We’re not that dumb.”

Lucifer’s eyes flick red, but Gabriel knows he’s hurt, not at full strength. He lets his own eyes flare blue in response and feels - the rift will close in about forty seconds. Lucifer raises one hand, but what does he actually think he can do, here? He doesn’t have an archangel blade and right now he’s weaker than Gabriel. Then the hand crunches into a fist. Distantly, Dean screams in pain.

“Good luck explaining Castiel’s dead boyfriend to him because you didn’t let me back through to be with my son,” Lucifer threatens, eyes still aglow.

Gabriel won’t stand for this. He telekinetically backhands Lucifer away into a tree, then flies to the rift and shoves both brothers home again. It closes behind him as he materializes in the bunker.

“Why didn’t it stop when we came through?” Sam yells up at him from the floor.

Dean is crowded over, Gabriel and Castiel and Sam and Mary and Jack all banging shoulders and elbows. Dean himself is like the personification of a crumpled piece of paper that just got dropped in a slush puddle, bleeding from his ears and nose and still visibly cramping with pain. Whatever fish hooks Lucifer was grabbing him with a minute ago are still buried under his skin, digging deeper.

“Isn’t there an infirmary here?” Mary demands, waving her hand a little to indicate the bunker at large.

“Yes, there is,” Castiel nods, frantically shoving everyone else back so that he can pick up and carry Dean in his arms.

They all pile after him except Gabriel. There’s exactly one way they’d be able to save Dean from this, and he already knows how it’s going to go.

* * *

Dean groans at the hands on him. Dammit, don’t they know that hurts? And it’s really fucking distracting, too. He’s not paying that much attention to everyone talking because it’s hard not to notice the feeling of being burned to death from the inside out. Mostly, Dean hears Sammy, begging first Rowena and then Cas to do something about this.

“Why are humans so fragile?” Jack sounds like he’s about to cry.

“Cas, do something! You can regrow people’s fingers that get chopped off, how come you’re just standing there?” Sam is yelling.

“This isn’t - Sam, archangels are different. Lucifer would have to undo this himself, I’m not powerful enough. If it wasn’t continually renewing the damage he could eventually heal on his own with the appropriate supportive care, but any cells attempting to rebuild themselves will just be torn apart again.”

“But maybe - the Book of the Damned, couldn’t there-”

“Dammit Sammy,” Dean gasps. “We’re not doing that again.”

He’s not even looking but he can feel their eyes on him. Are they seriously waiting for  _ him _ to come up with a fucking suggestion right now?

“Um. Okay, uh, maybe Gabriel can, he’s an archangel, maybe…” Sam’s fucking losing it over there. “Wait, I’ve got it!”

“What?” Mom and Jack ask at the same time.

“Cas, after I tried to do the demon trials…”

Nothing more needs to be said. It’s obvious where he’s going with this thought.

“Sam, you’re not going to convince him to let himself be possessed by an angel,” Cas snaps.

“He means you, dumbass,” Dean groans.

“Yeah, Cas, I meant you. I think he would if it was you. Dean, would you be okay with that?”

“Do I got a choice?” He’s starting to breathe a little too hard, like he’s sucking the air through a straw.

“It’ll be a matter of hours otherwise,” Cas informs him quietly. “Dean, I feel you should be made aware that even if angels were capable of possessing vessels without consent, I never would. And I won’t argue the point with you either no matter how much your brother  _ obviously _ wants me to. I want you to live, Dean. We all want you to live. But it’s your choice and I won’t force you to decide either way.”

“What about your body?”

“Are the logistics of me having a vessel once you’re healed terribly important right now?”

All of Dean’s muscles are spasming and it hurts just to open his eyes. And apparently it’s not just Jack - Cas looks like he’s about to cry, too.

“Cas.” He wheezes a little. “Uh. Shit.” Even  _ talking _ is painful. What the fuck, man. “Guys can you give us a minute?” Mom and Jack go out in the hall but Sammy hovers reluctantly. “You too.”

“Dean.”

“Scram.” He waits until his brother’s gone and the door’s closed. He shuts his eyes again. “Cas, y’know… that whole thing with Gadreel, and then when Lucifer possessed you…”

“Yes, I understand.”

“No, no you don’t. Shut up. Look, you… I trust you, Cas. Okay? And you. After that other shit went down, you gotta know how much trust that is for me to let you do this.”

“I know. And please understand that I’m sorry for this, I wish there was another way to save you.”

“Yeah I know you do, buddy. No more chick-flick moments, just - get on with it.” He remembers the stipulation before Cas can tell him. “Wait, I have to actually say the word ‘yes,’ don’t I?”

“It’s required, yeah. Otherwise it doesn’t work. You have to be completely unambiguous.”

“Okay, Cas. Then yes.”

Dean’s pretty sure he passes out for a few minutes while Cas takes care of it. When he opens his eyes again, Cas’ body is lying on the other infirmary bed with Sam and Rowena hovering over it and muttering about some kind of stasis spell to keep it from rotting until Cas needs it back. Mom is holding his hand. And Jack is-

Dean sits up straight in bed and gawks. “Holy shit, kid!”

“What?” Jack does a patented Cas-head-tilt.

“Uh. Nothing, just. Your wings are like three times as long as you are tall, how do you walk like that?”

“Oh, you can see them?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

_ “Don’t look over your shoulder unless you’re ready to be even more startled,” _ Cas warns from somewhere in the back of his head.

So, like an idiot, Dean does that exact thing. And seriously, if jumping out of his skin was actually something he’s capable of, he would do it now. “Dammit, Cas!”

_ “I told you not to. I’m not responsible for your actions, Dean.” _

“Is he… talking to you?” Mom asks, looking worried.

“Yeah. It’s fine.”

It’s  _ not _ fine. Cas’ wings seem like they got deep fried, and compared to Jack’s they’re horrible to look at. Jack’s wings are healthy, full-feathered, the color of blued steel. The ones currently sprouting freakishly out of Dean’s back are burned to a crisp with maybe a couple dozen feathers total between them, all scorched black and ragged with atrophied muscles and spots of exposed bone. They don’t hurt or anything, but just having them be part of his body at all is unsettling.

“How do you feel?” Sam’s looking at him, now.

“Uh. Okay I guess. I ain’t dying anymore, so that’s a plus.” Dean gets up from the bed and shrugs. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“What about Cas?”

_ “Tell Sam I’m suffering no ill effects.” _

“Yeah, he’s cool too.”

And shit just gets weirder from there. Because Dean can feel the damn wings sticking out of his shoulders, and they bump into stuff except they  _ don’t _ bump into stuff because they actually just pass right through. And the fucking things move on their own, without him wanting them to. Too many people telling him they’re glad he’s gonna be okay, it gets annoying and the wings start twitching. Then he sees Gabe, and it’s fucking startling, so they wrap around him for a second before he forces himself to relax.

“Uh. Do I have one too, now?” Dean asks, staring at Gabe’s halo. It’s not like it is in artwork of angels, it’s fuzzy and undefined like a lens flare in a camera.

“Yeah, but mine’s bigger,” Gabe chortles before stuffing his face with a handful of that sugary cereal Jack likes to eat.

Gabe’s wings don’t look anything like Jack’s. The span is an identical twentyish feet across, but that’s the only similarity. The feathers are shaped different and also a sharp cobalt blue with shimmering gold vanes.

“How come Jack doesn’t have a halo?”

“Because he’s not in a vessel, that’s just his body,” Gabe explains, then gestures at his wings. “Yours should be iridescent if they were healthy.”

“Ear-a-what-now?”

“Kinda glowy, every color all at once, a little bit shiny. Seraphs are the last rank before archangel, Cas is a lot more stupidly powerful than you probably realize.”

“Hey, I ain’t complaining,” Dean shrugs, heading to the fridge for a beer. “So what happened to Lucifer?”

“I didn’t have time to take him out because I was too busy rescuing your dumb ass.”

“Great. ’Cause I’m sure there’s no  _ way _ he could find his way back here again.”

“You’re not as boned as you think,” Gabe grins. “I got a few more tricks up my sleeve.”

“Thought you were done with that bullshit.”

“Never, Deano. Never. Especially when it comes to him, we’re gonna need to fight dirty if we want to get him in the Cage again.”

“Yeah.” Dean laughs sarcastically. “No. No more’a that, okay? He’ll find a way to get out again if we stick him back in there. He’s gotta die.”

“Right. Because  _ you _ killed your brother when he turned bad, too.”

Dean knows Gabe could destroy him with a finger snap, but he doesn’t really care and glares anyway. “Are you stupid, man? He’ll kill you if he gets the chance, and me, and Sam, and  _ everyone. _ I know it’s hard and it sucks, but you said you were done running. You can fix this, and we’re gonna help you as much as we can, but first you gotta get over that. The only way we can be sure Lucifer can’t hurt anybody is if we gank him and you know it.”

_ “Be careful, Dean. He can fly away if you upset him too much,” _ Cas points out.

“Yeah, I heard that,” Gabe snarks.

“You can hear him in my head?”

“What part of ‘archangel’ don’t you get? Without Lucifer, Dad or Amara here, I’m the most powerful thing in the world right now. Imagine Alaska.”

“Huh?”

“Just do it.”

“Okay. Sure. Alaska.”

“Great! Imagine that I am actually as  _ big _ as that, but choose to be folded up into this gloriously handsome form. You’re human, your brain doesn’t accept those kinds of parameters. So, you see my vessel and assume I’m another man like you. Even though you can see my wings and my halo too, you’re still operating under that  _ wrong _ idea right now as we speak. And you’ve got my little brother all shrunk down and compressed hitching a ride under your skin, too, when he’s the size of a skyscraper. Am I breaking your bank yet?”

“Uh…” No, dammit. He refuses to let Gabe outsmart him. “Y’know what, whatever.” He takes a few sips of his beer. “Don’t change the subject. How’re we gonna deal with Lucifer?”

“Welp…” Gabe frowns slightly. “Mikey would be a better choice than me, war and cosmic battles are kinda his thing. But he’s all boxed up.”

“Yeah, and we ain’t on good terms with Hell now that Crowley’s dead, so even if it was remotely a good idea to try and spring him we prob’ly can’t.”

“Exactly. And Lucy isn’t going to stay weak forever, especially over there where he can just kill a rash of angels and glut himself on their grace. So you’ll have to get Jack on board.”

_ “That may be difficult if his behavior in apocalypse-world was any indication.” _

“Yeah, thanks, Captain Obvious.” Dean rolls his eyes. “So we convince junior over there to help us ice his old man. Will the two of you be enough?”

“If it happened right this moment, no. Jack seems like he learned a lot about fighting angels while he was over there, but it’s different. If he’s going to take down an archangel, he needs to know how to fight like one.”

“Okay, great, so you’ll just get in some family bonding time with him… maybe in the dungeon, there’s nothing breakable there. What about Cas?”

_ “No,” _ Cas says immediately.

“That bastard shishkebabed you, man! He tried to get Jack to go darkside with him and he almost killed me when we were coming back here! You don’t get to say ‘no!’”

_ “I’m not going into battle wearing you, Dean! That’s not a risk I’m willing to take!” _ his friend snaps.

“Well, tough shit, pal. ’Cause I ain’t gonna just sit around and watch either, so you can pick between letting me get my ass kicked or actually helping.”

“You two need couple’s therapy,” Gabe complains, rolling his eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel sits, listening to the quiet of the bunker. Night has come and the refugees are adequately situated in various areas without complaint. Castiel understands enough about humanity at this point to realize that many people would be irritated at the very least if they were forced to cohabitate rooms meant for smaller numbers of bodies, but these aren’t that type of people. They’ve faced unimaginable hardship for decades and are grateful just for soft bedding and clean clothes and fresh food. Many of them, upon learning of the possibility of hot showers, were reduced to tears on the spot.

But the bustle has died until tomorrow. Castiel enjoys this near-silence, this atmosphere of peace like the air has grown softer around him. He senses a handful of souls stirring, but they’re keeping to themselves. One of them is Jack, who’s in the kitchen with Gabriel as they stuff themselves with piles upon piles of nougat candy bars. Bobby and Sam are insomniac together in the armory, discussing a number of pressing issues. Castiel is proud of Sam, he’s already shaping up into leader material.

Mary approaches from a doorway to enter the library. “Dean?”

Castiel shakes his head. “No. Although I understand how you would assume so. He’s sleeping.”

“Oh. Good.” Awkwardness settles on her like a cloak. “How is he?”

“Healing slowly. I can cautiously predict that this won’t be necessary for more than a month or so, six weeks at most. I’m surprised he allowed it at all, to be honest. Usually Dean tends to roll over and accept death rather than put himself in such a compromising situation.”

“Then what was different this time?”

“He knew Sam would do something stupid to bring him back otherwise. And… he trusts me. I’m actually very honored and humbled that he’s allowed me to do this for him.”

He’s surprised when she sits across from him. “Is it weird for you?”

“In what way?”

“You’re sharing a body with one of your friends. I don’t know that much about angels besides how to kill them, but I’m pretty sure it doesn’t usually shake out like that.”

“No, not very often,” he admits. He folds his hands on the table. “You find the idea discomforting. I don’t blame you.”

“My father died when he was possessed by Azazel.”

“Yes, I know. But there are important differences between angelic and demonic possession. Besides that Dean and I have been through a lot together, we’ve known each other for almost ten years. I care about what happens to him more than anyone else, including myself. As much as it’s within my power to do so, I won’t let any further harm come to your son while he’s recovering.” Castiel pauses for a moment before changing the subject. “Mary… thank you for looking after Jack while you were over there. He’s immeasurably powerful, but he is still a child. I’m glad you were there with him.”

She shakes her head in a slightly self-deprecating way that wouldn’t look out of place at all on Dean. “If I hadn’t gotten myself stuck there in the first place-”

“That’s irrelevant,” he interrupts gently. “You have my gratitude either way.”

A nod. She looks so tired. “You’re welcome.”

“Forgive me for asking, but I’m getting a sense that there’s something else about the situation that you find unsettling besides the obvious.”

Mary shakes her head, which is in direct contradiction to what she says next. “Do you love Dean?”

He refuses to show how startled he is to be asked that question, especially so directly. “I have a strong emotional attachment to him and to Sam, as well as to Jack. They’re my family.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

Castiel smiles miserably. “I don’t think it matters how I feel, Mary.”

“Well, when Sam and I had a text conversation that was almost five hundred messages long about gay marriage being legal now, I started trying to figure out why he’d be so worried about something that doesn’t affect him.”

“I see.” Even though he technically doesn’t need to anyway, Castiel suddenly finds it difficult to breathe. “And here I thought I was hiding it successfully.”

“You’re really not.”

“Yes, I see that now. I would appreciate you not mentioning it to Dean. As far as I’m aware, he doesn’t know and I’m also sure he doesn’t reciprocate. But I promise it had nothing to do with my decision to facilitate his healing process. I would’ve done this for Sam, too, in the same circumstances.”

Castiel harbors some amount of disappointment in her for looking relieved when he says that Dean’s feelings for him are platonic and familial in nature. He’s aware of the views that were common when she died, but that doesn’t make it less irritating. Dean is her son, she should love him however he is. It leaves him to wonder how she would’ve reacted supposing he’d said Dean was in love with him.

* * *

“And it causes cancer in humans?” Jack reiterates with a worried frown.

“Sure does!” Gabriel says before cheerfully cramming another pastry into his mouth. “Ah, don’t worry. Doesn’t affect us.”

“But shouldn’t they be trying to fix a problem if it makes them sick?”

“Oh, kid, you know so very little about humans,” he laughs. “Really, it’s adorable. Sadly, being cute only gets you so far in life. Well, unless you’re me. But you’re _not_ me, you’re _you,_ so I’m going to teach you other stuff to use when cuteness fails!”

Dean shuffles into the kitchen and pours himself some coffee, then promptly almost chokes himself to death when he starts laughing in the middle of trying to swallow. A newly-arrived Sam is much less appreciative of the spectacle.

“Gabriel! Get these! _Off!_ My head! Right now!” he bellows, ragefully jabbing a finger to indicate as if anyone could possibly miss it. Meanwhile, Dean has actually collapsed to the floor with hysterics, breaking the mug and getting coffee everywhere.

“Aww, come on, Samsquatch! I thought you missed Crowley and I figured you’d like a reminder!”

“GABRIEL! I WILL DEEP-FRY YOU IN HOLY OIL!”

“Alright, alright! Relax!” He snaps his fingers and the moose antlers disappear. “You’re no fun!”

“It’s okay, Uncle Gabe, I think you’re funny,” Jack smiles, even though he’s never met Crowley and clearly doesn’t get the punchline of the prank.

Gabriel rolls his eyes at Sam, taking the consolation prize that is giving his little brother’s would-be boyfriend a small tickle this morning. Castiel probably doesn’t find it amusing - of course, Castiel never finds _anything_ amusing, he’s still got a stick up his ass despite being fallen for _how_ many years now? - but he does probably appreciate Dean experiencing a brief moment of joy.

“Dude. _Thank you_ for that, last time I laughed that hard Cas and a hooker were involved,” Dean says as he drags himself up off the floor with a huge smile still lighting up his face.

“Thanks for having my back, Dean,” Sam grumps sarcastically while serving himself some kind of fruit-something for breakfast.

“Why’re you giving me the bitchface? I’m not the one who turned you into Bullwinkle.”

 _“You_ are _enjoying yourself at his expense, Dean.”_

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah, thanks, Cas. I know.”

“What’d he say?”

“Nothing, it’s not important. Hey, you’re doing your briefing thing for the refugees today, right?”

“Yeah, I was planning on it after lunch.”

“Okay, you should do it after breakfast instead. That way I can go on a supply run when nobody’ll miss me and we’ll actually have food _for_ lunch.”

“Okay! Bro, bro’s boyfriend, bro’s boyfriend’s brother, by all means stay here. Baby nephew, follow me.”

Gabriel leads Jack out of the kitchen and down to the dungeon, ignoring the dirty look he gets from Sam and Dean’s sputtering outrage at being called Castiel’s boyfriend (even though he _so_ is and anyone who’s spent more than five minutes in a room with those two knows it).

“Uncle Gabe, I’m confused.”

“Oh, aren’t we all.” He grins at Jack’s blank look. “About what? You gotta be more specific, kid.”

“Sam and Dean and Mary are all behaving weirdly about Cas possessing Dean. But I thought it’s a good thing, because now he’ll get better.”

“Yeah, well, it’s because your dads are idiots who can’t figure anything out. And not only that, they’re _stubborn_ idiots who _refuse_ to figure anything out. I don’t even have to spend that much time around them and I’m this close to handcuffing them together in a locked room until they just talk.”

“Is that effective?”

“Well, Dean would probably starve to death or chew off his own arm first and Cas would just stand there and watch him do it without saying a damn thing.” Gabriel shakes his head. “Alright, this might be the only time you hear me say this, but we gotta be serious for a few minutes - you’re learning to fight.”

“But I already know that,” Jack declares proudly.

“Sure, you can fight humans, probably a few different kinds of monster, regular angels. But in all the ways that matter, you, bucko, are an archangel. And you should know how to hit like one. Trust me, it’s important. Lucy’s gonna show up and paint the walls with our guts sooner or later, so you need to know how to fight back before that happens.”

“We can’t talk him out of it? Cas is always telling me how it’s bad to kill other angels…” He stops at Gabriel’s slow head-shake.

“Jack, you know how when we were in apocalypse-world and every single person-slash-celestial-being was wigging out about you talking to Lucifer?”

“Yes. That was annoying.”

“Okay. Follow me from point A to point B here, champ. _Lucifer is the one who almost killed Dean._ He’s why one of your _real_ dads is possessing your other real dad right now. There’s a ginormous list of reasons nobody wanted you talking to him, and it’s nothing to do with you. You’re a good kid and your head’s screwed on right as far as I can see. But Lucifer? You know how Sam and Dean are. They’re brothers, they love each other. Lucifer is my brother. And I don’t want to be anywhere near him.”

“Why?”

Damn, this boy. He just can’t read between the lines, can he?

Gabriel switches tactics. “What’s the first thing you think of when someone says the word ‘demon?’”

“They’re bad?”

“Exactly. And Hell?”

“It’s bad, too.”

“Yep. Well, Lucifer invented demons and he created Hell. You think someone who can make either of those things isn’t also bad? I promise he didn’t do it by accident, either.”

Jack looks straight-up depressed now. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Sorry, champ.”

“Dean says family doesn’t end in blood, though.”

“Well, he’s actually right about that. So, think you can get behind us on this one now?”

A reluctant nod. “Okay. And if we stop him, that keeps a lot of people safe.”

“Exactly.” Gabriel whips out his archangel blade and holds it up. “You know what this is, right?”

“It looks like a twisty version of an angel blade.”

“It’s a special kind of angel blade, only archangels get them. And you can kill an archangel with it, but only if you’re another archangel. And it kills basically everything else, too, not just archangels. Now you’re not _technically_ an archangel, but you’re so close and so much more powerful than one that I wouldn’t be all that surprised if this thing would work for you, too. So we’re not gonna be waving these at each other, it’s just a bad idea all around. We’ll practice with regular angel blades instead, because those will only sting a little.”

And this gets him a whole forty five minutes of deliberately frustrating an overgrown toddler. Jack’s going to need a lot of training, which is kind of a problem since there’s no way to know how long it’ll be before Lucifer finds his way back from apocalypse-world hell bent on vengeance. By the end of it Jack looks like he’s two seconds away from a tantrum and Gabriel’s decided that it’s really not fun to pick on a baby like this, there’s no challenge or reward. It’s not like he’s been deliberately screwing with Jack or anything, but still.

“Alright, alright, I think we can stop here.” The angel blades get stowed and they wander out into the hall. Jack’s feathers are all floofed in a way that betrays his annoyance, except in spots where they’re matted down. Gabriel frowns at his young nephew, noticing more and more patches of bent and broken feathers the longer he looks. “Nobody taught you to groom your wings, did they?”

“Am I supposed to?” Jack asks, which immediately answers that question.

Gabriel sighs. “Just because Cas’ wings are destroyed doesn’t mean yours need to be. Alright, kid, now you’re getting another lesson in ‘how to angel 101,’ because that’s just not okay. Aren’t you itchy?”

“Yes, sometimes. I thought that was normal.”

“Unbelievable.” They head to Jack’s bedroom and Gabriel sits on the edge of the bed with Jack in the desk chair facing away from him. “Okay. First of all, you don’t get to groom anybody else.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re just a baby and it’d be too weird. I’ve been around since before the stars were born, so I could groom pretty much anybody except Michael or Lucifer, because they’re older. So, you could have anyone help you take care of your wings, but you can’t really do it for someone else.”

“But I like to be helpful.”

“Hey, whatever floats your boat. But some other angel would get freaked out if you offered.” Gabriel expertly starts picking at the coverts closest to Jack’s shoulder blades. “There’s other things, too. Your best choice would be Cas, if he’d ever bothered to try and teach you this stuff. But I’m sure he was too busy staring at Dean and drooling, so you’re stuck with me for now. Most angels pick a close friend or their mate for this.”

“Oh! So Dean should groom Cas’ wings?” Jack guesses.

“If Dean was an angel, yeah. But Dean can’t usually see wings, he only can right now because Cas is in his head.”

“Why can’t humans see wings?” Jack wonders.

“If we really want them to, they could,” Gabriel admits. “But it’s not a great idea, usually they get all panicky and scream and it’s just not fun for anybody. Plus then the angel feels vulnerable, because if your wings are stowed in the veil and not out in the open it’s harder for them to get hurt by something.” He tugs almost an entire handful of dead feathers free from Jack’s left wing and grimaces. “You’re gonna feel _so_ much better in an hour when you’re all fixed up, kiddo. Trust me.”

“It’s already less itchy,” Jack agrees. “Who grooms your wings?”

“Me. It’s not _easy_ to get your own wings and sometimes I miss a couple spots, but there’s nobody around to do it for me. Michael’s in the cage and I don’t have a mate.”

“If it’s so hard to groom our own wings, why did God design us this way?”

“Good question. Maybe to make us bond with each other or something, who knows. God had a lot of really screwy ideas that he never got around to fixing.”

If that actually is the reason why, it seems like it’s working a little bit. Gabriel does like his nephew after all, and he doesn’t mind pausing his busy schedule for some preening. Humans would compare it to giving a baby a bath, not really a chore most of the time as long as the baby’s cooperative and not fussy or upset.

Jack’s left wing twitches as Gabriel scrapes some old dirt and dried blood out from between two primaries. “That feels funny.”

“Here.” He summons five candy bars directly into Jack’s hands so the kid will hold still. “Eat those.” Why didn’t Castiel already teach him this stuff?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So incidentally I love Mary and she, like most of the characters on the show who aren't cishet male and/or white, deserved better. She's literally the first character they fridge in the show and then they fridge her _again_ in season 14. It's despicable.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER WAS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE POSTED TODAY. I was trying to edit it and hit the wrong fucking button. >_<
> 
> (You may also have noticed that this fic has a completed chapter count now - I am wrapping up the writing of the epilogue as we speak.)

_“I don’t support this course of action,”_ Cas grumps.

“Yeah, well, nobody’s asking you to,” Dean mutters, then clumsily reaches an arm behind him to scratch his own back. He’s been itchy as hell all day for no reason; scratching doesn’t work that well, and he even tried putting on another shirt but it made no difference. It’s really starting to piss him off but he has no idea what to do about it. “Gabe, are you fucking with me?”

“Not at the moment.” Gabe snaps his fingers. “There, it’s done.”

“So what happens to Sammy when he tries to use any of that shit?” Dean wonders, eyeing his brother’s pile of hair products.

“Well, I’m feeling nice about it today, so it’s harmless. Half the stuff is just rearranged to be in different bottles so he’ll use the wrong thing. The other half are gonna explode-”

“Dammit, Gabe, _no._ ”

“Let me finish, bonehead! Explode harmlessly and shower him in pink paint.”

Dean can’t wait to see that, actually, and he grins. “Awesome.”

 _“Don’t either of you have better ways to spend your time instead of needlessly pranking Sam?”_ Cas demands in his I’m-at-the-end-of-my-fucking-rope-with-you voice.

“Yeah, prob’ly,” he shrugs. “But c’mon, Cas, it ain’t like he’s gonna get hurt. Plus older brother solidarity and all that shit. I prank Sam all the time anyway.”

_“Yes, I’m aware. I still don’t approve of this course of action.”_

“Yeah, we heard you the first time, you damn killjoy,” Gabe says.

Dean growls and digs his fingernails into his back through his shirt. “Did I get cursed or something and I don’t know about it?”

Gabe frowns a little, then raises his eyebrows. He reaches behind Dean and gives something a yank, which flashes pain right into his shoulder for a split second - and then, thank fuck, soothing relief. Gabe holds up a handful of dead feathers for Dean to see.

“These need to come out. Like yesterday.”

“They weren’t doing it before!”

“Yeah, but they’re itchy and painful because new feathers are trying to grow but the old ones are still stuck there.”

 _“That’s impossible,”_ Cas protests. _“All our wings were destroyed in the Fall, and that was years ago. No new feathers have been growing since that happened.”_

“Well, maybe you’re just special,” Gabe snarks with that obnoxious-ass grin of his. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” And then he flies away.

“Cas, you wanna tell me just what the hell’s going on here?” Dean demands while marching back to his own bedroom.

_“I don’t know. This shouldn’t be happening, my wings are much too injured. If they were going to recover they would’ve done it before now.”_

“Really? That’s it? You don’t have _any_ kinda explanation about this for me? Come on, man! They’re your damn wings, shouldn’t you know this shit?”

_“Dean, nothing like the Fall has ever occurred before. There’s no lore to fall back on and I have no experience to draw from. I-”_

Cas’ abrupt stop is telling. “What?” Dean growls.

_“I think… Dean, do you recall the scarring on your shoulder when I removed you from the Pit?”_

“Yeah, what does that have to do with your wings?”

 _“Possibly everything,”_ Cas insists. _“The physical mark healed, yes, but it was an echo of something else. And looking closely now-”_

“Cas are you seriously creeping on my soul right now?”

_“Your soul recognizes my grace, Dean. They became familiar with each other. So my possession of you seems to be much more symbiotic than I could’ve anticipated, human souls are incredibly potent and I appear to be drawing on yours in order to restore my wings. And you already have an exceptionally powerful soul to begin with.”_

“Um… okay. You’re welcome, I guess. Now how do I stop the itching?”

_“By preening.”_

“Super.”

_“Yes.”_

Dean rolls his eyes. “You wanna elaborate there, buddy? I don’t know a fucking thing about how your wings work.”

_“Your best bet would be to ask Gabriel for help.”_

“Not happening.”

Dean smirks when he feels a jolt of Cas’ frustration barely being kept in check. _“Alright, fine. Then you’ll have to do it yourself, which is considerably more difficult.”_

“You got some serious design flaws to make it so hard to give yourself a shower, man.”

_“It’s different when I’m inhabiting a vessel. And in fact with Heaven constantly viewing me as a hostile party, my wings were already less than their best for some time even before the Fall. If you ask me it’s the human body that has those considerable design flaws, taking into account that most of you lack the ability to scratch an itch between your own shoulder blades.”_

“Look, whatever, let’s just get this over with.”

_“Take off your shirt.”_

“Really, Cas? Buy me a drink first!”

 _“Dean! I’m trying to help both of us, stop screwing around!”_ Cas barks. _“I should warn you that there are aspects to wing grooming which you may find unpleasant.”_

“I know you know I get covered in monster guts every day that ends in Y,” Dean snorts as he pulls his t-shirt over his head.

_“There are glands present which secrete oil to keep my feathers in good shape. It’s reasonable to believe that once the damaged feathers have all been plucked they’ll begin working again, but there will essentially be no healthy feathers to absorb the oil. Until they’ve grown out enough, you’ll need to frequently change shirts and shower throughout the day to avoid becoming too sticky.”_

“Awesome,” he grumbles. “Okay, now what?”

_“The dead feathers will be loose, and there aren’t a lot of them. Pull them out like Gabriel did earlier. You shouldn’t encounter difficulties until you reach the sections that are too close to your back.”_

Dean spends the next twenty minutes holding the end of “his” right wing and yanking scorched feathers out. The itchiness starts going down almost immediately, which is great, but this is a tedious pain in the ass because there’s not just feathers, there’s also down, which is still just fluffy enough to go _everywhere_ as he’s scratching it away from the skin.

“Okay, so how do I get the ones behind my shoulders?” he asks once he can’t reach the rest of the wing.

_“You don’t, really. Your joints aren’t flexible enough.”_

“But I thought they all have to come off.”

_“Yes. Which is why most angels have a close friend or sibling or… to help. Especially if they’re inhabiting vessels at the time. I believe the closest approximation would be teenage human siblings braiding each other’s hair.”_

“Wow, Cas. Are you saying you’re even more girly than Sam?”

 _“Dean, enough. Repeat the process to the best of your ability on the other side and then ‘suck it up’-”_ God, he can fucking hear those damn air quotes. _“-and ask Gabriel for help.”_

“Yeah, because I’m sure your dick brother won’t punish me for no reason while he’s _helping,_ ” Dean scoffs.

 _“I have the impression that despite his repeated pranking of Sam he’s not as bad as he has been in the past.”_ And, okay, Dean can feel Cas’ eyes rolling, too, even though he doesn’t actually have eyes right now. _“If you’re so against it, I can use my grace to try and force the rest of the feathers to fall out on their own.”_

“Great, let’s do that!”

_“…you are aware that I’ll need to be in control for that?”_

“Sure, whatever. You want your wings better, I want the itching to stop. Win-win.”

_“If you like…”_

“What, Cas.”

_“I could complete the process on my own, it would go much faster. You will immediately regain your motor functions once I’ve finished. I won’t do it unless you’re alright with it, Dean.”_

Dean knows that Cas compulsively asking him for consent at every tiny thing should probably be getting annoying, but he actually really appreciates it. After being ordered around and forced to do shit all his life - first by his dad, then by dickbag angels, and always, _always_ by circumstance alone - it’s nice to have at least one guy politely request permission from him first.

“Go for it, buddy.”

And in the amount of time it takes for him to blink, Dean becomes the voice-in-the-head and Cas gets behind the wheel. It’s so fucking bizarre, too, because Dean can still perceive everything while being his best friend’s meat-puppet. But it’s also way different, because with Cas being the main inhabitant of Dean’s body his physiology changes a lot. His bones are stainless steel, his muscles are industrial grade hydraulics. He could get hit by a train and be perfectly fine in about five minutes.

Cas expertly begins preening the other wing, working a lot faster and easier than Dean did on the first one. Singed down and char-broiled feathers drift lazily away to the bedroom floor like a black snowfall.

The door is flung open. “Dean, I _know_ you had something to do with this!” Sam yells, wiping paint out of his eyes.

Cas frowns. “Incidentally, I told both of them several times not to. But it was essentially Gabriel who was responsible. Dean only sat back and laughed while watching him do it.”

Sammy turns startled in a hurry. “Cas? What’re you doing?”

“Grooming my wings. They’ve inexplicably begun to heal, we can only surmise it has something to do with our unusual spiritual bond.”

“Well that’s… that’s great, Cas. Can you get Dean up front for a second so I can kick his ass?” Sam grumps.

“I’m sure he’s sorry,” Cas says dismissively before going back to his wing.

 _“I’m actually not,”_ Dean snickers. _“He looks like he lost a fight with the slime from Ghostbusters II.”_

“This isn’t funny, Dean,” Cas snaps.

“Oh my god, why are you two like this?” Sam groans. “What’s he even saying?”

“It’s not of import.”

“Cas, where’s Gabriel?”

“With Jack. They’re consuming absurd amounts of artificial confectionaries in the kitchen. Incidentally, when that’s resolved, your mother is looking for you.”

“Thanks,” Sam grumbles, and finally leaves them alone.

_“Is Mom looking for me too?”_

“No, apparently she wants to discuss something with him. I’m sure it has nothing to do with you, Dean. My world might revolve around you, but that doesn’t mean everyone else’s does.”

Dean laughs, but he’s actually really proud of his friend’s progress. _“Damn, Cas, that was a good one! You’re learning, man.”_

“Um. Thank you,” Cas mumbles, slightly more flat than usual even for him. A brief surge of grace shocks through his shoulders and the rest of the dead feathers drop away. “There, that should be the end of it for now. At least until the oil glands recover.”

Cas turns control over to Dean and he shakes his head a few times to get his bearings back. “We good?”

_“You’re not still itching, so I’d assume so.”_

“Thanks, Cas.”

A quiet chuckle. _“I should be the one thanking you. You’re healing my wings, Dean. Soon I’ll be able to fly again, or time travel if circumstances demand it. I’ll be more effective in combat. The implications are enormous.”_

Dean grins. “You sound pretty excited.”

_“I am, yes.”_

“Well, good. You’re doing me a solid, so I’m glad I can help.”

* * *

“Um. You have some. Paint in your ear,” Castiel informs him, pointing.

“Shouldn’t you be letting Dean sleep?” Sam yawns.

“He _is_ sleeping. And having very pleasant dreams, in fact. Why aren’t you asleep?”

“Well, Gabriel kept screwing with me all day so I didn’t get anything done,” Sam gripes. “We have no way to know when Lucifer will pop up again and we’re nowhere near ready for him when he does.”

“It’s only been two days,” Castiel points out. “And the angels in apocalypse-world won’t be eager to help him gather the items he’d need to perform his own rift spell. If nothing else, they’ll slow him down at least. There’s time. Besides, chronic insomnia is incredibly unhealthy for humans.”

Sam nods slightly. “You’re probably right.” He rubs his face. “Hey, since you’re here, I had an idea I wanna run by you.”

“Of course.”

“Um, you know those brass knuckles with the Enochian sigils on them that Mom has?”

“What about them?”

“I was just thinking about how we carve devil’s traps into bullets to pin demons, do you think we could do a similar thing with the Enochian? It might help take some of the wind out of Lucifer’s sails if we hit him with them.”

“Would a bullet be large enough?” Castiel questions. “Those knuckles work because of the sigils, but you need all of them for it to be effective. The carvings would have to be minute in order to fit properly.”

“Think you could swing it with your mojo?”

“I suppose there’s no harm in trying,” he agrees. “And it’ll give me something to do while I wait for everyone else to wake up again.”

“Is Dean okay with you running around doing stuff while he’s out for the night?”

“Of course, I asked him first… several times,” he admits. “Sam, I always ask first. I wouldn’t ever betray his trust by behaving otherwise. It’s even convenient for him, because he wakes up in the kitchen with coffee already waiting for him.”

Sam huffs a quiet laugh. “That sounds kinda nice in a really weird way.” His expression becomes serious again. “So Mom talked to you the other night.”

“Yes.” Castiel immediately feels very uncomfortable with this topic of discussion. “I assume based on your demeanor that she told you everything.”

“Dude, _Cas,_ come on. Everyone who’s ever seen you guys standing in the same room together for thirty seconds already knows. I had to have a conversation with Mom about it this afternoon, too, which was awkward as hell by the way. But I convinced her to at least try to be okay with it. You’re welcome.”

“Thank you,” Castiel acknowledges. “But okay with what?”

“You need to tell Dean. Which - I can’t even believe I have to sit here and tell you to do that since you’re walking around wearing his body. But you need to tell him before Mom tries to talk to him about it, okay? Because she’s trying to be okay with it, but Dean’s definitely not okay with it and he’s never gonna be unless you can get him to realize that it’s no big deal.”

“I’m… sorry, what exactly are we discussing? I’ve completely lost your point.”

Sam’s visage contorts into one of his many - as Dean terms them - bitchfaces. “According to Mom, you haven’t told Dean you love him yet because you think he’ll freak out and not want to be around you anymore afterwards.”

“Dean is my best friend. I don’t want to make him uncomfortable or betray his trust.”

“Okay, Cas. I’m exhausted and you’re somehow even more dense than I thought, so here it is: Dean would be uncomfortable with it because he loves you back but he’s got however many decades of internalized homophobia that he refuses to deal with or admit even exists. And he also probably doesn’t think you’re into him because you’re an angel and angels don’t have feelings usually. There. I just took like three quarters of all that angsty indecision out of the equation for you. I’m going to bed. You’re going to talk to my brother tomorrow.”

“You seem angry.”

“No, I just have eyes and I’m sick of watching you both be stupid about this. Goodnight, Cas.”

Castiel allows himself a moment to feel exasperated before retreating to the armory to work on the bullets like Sam suggested previously. It’s not an especially difficult task to mark the rounds with the correct sigils, although after the fact he labels each box with a Sharpie by hand because he has nothing better to do and it should eat some time.

Jack appears munching on a candy bar, presumably given to him by Gabriel. “Cas, why are your wings bald?”

“Because they’re healing. Eventually I’ll be able to fly again.”

“Oh! So your wings weren’t supposed to look like that before? All the angels’ wings look like that in this world, I just thought mine and Lucifer’s and Gabriel’s are different because we’re archangels. Or partially in my case.”

“Well, they aren’t supposed to look like that, no. But I did something very stupid and all the angels got hurt. For future reference, Jack, if anyone ever asks you for help with trials or a spell of any kind, and it’s _not_ Sam or Dean or me, make sure you know what the end result will be and if possible read the entire spell for yourself first. Otherwise you may be tricked by an egotistical dickbag like the Scribe of God.”

“Okay,” Jack nods, clearly confused but accepting the information regardless. “But your wings are getting better, and that’s good. Does that mean all the angels’ wings will get better? They don’t like us very much.”

“No, they don’t. However, this is a fluke. It wouldn’t be possible without Dean.”

“Like how in Sleeping Beauty and Snow White the princes’ love broke the spells on them? Did Dean give your wings a kiss to make them better?”

Jack is entirely too excited about that idea, but when Castiel rolls his eyes, it’s out of fondness and amusement.

“No. My grace seems to be borrowing from his soul in order to bring itself back to full strength and heal my wings. Incidentally, I approve of your choices in movies, I’ve heard those are reasonably age-appropriate for you and generally wholesome.”

“It was Sam’s idea… Dean and Uncle Gabe made fun of me, but I liked them.”

“Well, that’s the most important thing,” he cedes. “And you shouldn’t necessarily put too much stake in Gabriel’s opinions on what media you consume when he’s made questionable choices regarding films in the past.”

“Are there real-life spells and curses that are broken by true love’s kiss?” Jack wonders, very serious about the idea.

“That would be an excellent question for Sam. I’m sure it’s possible, but I’ve never encountered such a thing. And please don’t ask about this to Gabriel, we don’t need him getting ideas for even worse pranks,” Castiel grumbles while writing on yet another box of bullets.

“Cas, do humans have mates?”

His eyes snap up. “Excuse me?”

“Uncle Gabe was teaching me how to groom my wings and he said that sometimes your mate is supposed to do it, which implies that angels have mates. But there’s no other angels here and you like Dean the best, so if humans have mates too then that means he’s yours, right? But how will he groom your wings for you if he can’t see them?”

Castiel is baffled, not only by the subject of conversation but also by Jack’s intense (if naive) concern.

“Um. That’s complicated to answer. Humans tend to be very different from angels.”

“Does that mean Dean can’t be your mate?” Jack seems extremely upset by the concept. “Won’t you get lonely?”

“Jack, please calm down. This isn’t a big deal.” He attempts to form a coherent explanation. “Angels are invariably very picky about mating, to the degree that at least half of them never do. Those that do, mate for life, which is a very long time unless they get killed. Humans on the other hand tend to have multiple romantic partners before settling for one, or at least that’s the general pattern that I’ve noticed. Strictly speaking, I don’t have a mate, and I never have. Dean hasn’t been romantically involved with anyone in at least six years. And incidentally, I’m capable of grooming my own wings without help.”

“But it’s fun! Uncle Gabe gives me nougat bars and tells me jokes while he fixes my feathers, and he teaches me stuff about ‘how to angel’ as long as I’m good and sit still.”

“Well, I’ve survived four and a half billion years without a mate, Jack. It’s not critical to my continued existence.” He reiterates a sentiment he often uses to make himself feel better about the platonic nature of his relationship with Dean.

Jack seems distressed and his wings briefly wrap around him. “Is it because Dean has his head up his ass?”

Castiel isn’t sure whether he should laugh or immediately find and attack his brother. He settles for rolling his eyes. “Please don’t say things like that, Dean’s doing his best.”

A thoughtful frown, and then Jack puts on his best smile. “Well, since Dean broke the spell on your wings, I think he should be your mate,” he insists. “Just like in Disney movies.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to my clumsy dumbassery, there will not be an update on Friday because obvs this was supposed to be that update. Next week we will return to the regular posting schedule.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PSA: Last week, due to a fuck-up during the editing process, a chapter was accidentally posted two days early. Because of this, it might be worth it to take ten seconds and check to make sure you read that update before diving into this one :)

Gabriel closes his eyes and tunes himself to the vibrations of the world, feeling for any giant-ass disruptions or surges of celestial energy. In the immediate area: Sam calling some sheriff way over in South Dakota to put out an APB, refugees bustling and getting in each other’s way, Dean bitching out Castiel over the excessive wing oil soaking through his old ratty flannel. Further out, tiny dots of the few celestial creatures still alive: a minute handful of cupids dutifully carrying out their tasks, one angel pretending to be a faith healer and accepting money in exchange, another angel guarding the Sandbox. No signs indicating Lucifer’s return.

He switches focus to the demonic and isn’t surprised at all by what he finds. Plenty of them topside, operating independently. The ones still down in Hell are fighting among themselves about who gets the throne, but if it’s been going on this long then clearly a winner isn’t going to be decided anytime soon. That’s good, though; without the threat of a large-scale incursion, Winchester And Co can focus on preparing for the big bad to show up.

Gabriel retracts his senses back to his immediate surroundings and sucks on a Tootsie pop while walking to the kitchen. There’s communal food for the refugees and then a stash of other stuff for the Winchesters - Gabriel inspects it and then empties the insides of all Sam’s vegetables in order to fill them with ketchup and pork gravy. Of course, upon discovery he has every intention of fixing the vegetables, because it’s not like he actually wants the guy to starve or whatever.

“Gabe, did you ever think maybe you should just talk to him?” Dean snickers, stepping around him to get a beer out of the fridge.

“That’s rich coming from you, bucko.”

Dean gives him one of those dumbass expressions that refuses to be anything other than confused and annoyed instead of getting the fucking point. “What?”

“Wow. I can’t even tell if you’re faking it or if you really are just that thick.”

 _“You’re both insufferable,”_ Castiel gripes.

“Neither of you has any room to talk.” Gabriel bites down on his Tootsie pop and speaks around the sugary debris in his mouth. “Cas, I know you had a nice enlightening conversation with the moose last night. So here’s what’s gonna happen.” He snaps his fingers and they’re in the dungeon. “You two idiots can stay here until you get this worked out! Trust me when I say the sexual tension is killing us all and I’m doing everyone a favor.” And he flies off to take care of some other stuff, leaving them locked in there.

* * *

Dean really fucking hates Gabe for this.

“Can you fly yet?”

 _“Do you_ see _any feathers?”_

He groans. “Alright. What the hell was he bitching us out for?”

_“Presumably something that will make you extremely uncomfortable, Dean.”_

“Awesome.”

_“I think this conversation will be slightly easier if I temporarily alter your perception. May I?”_

“Yeah, sure.” Dean has no idea what that actually means, but he’s cool with it. Then he blinks and Cas is standing in front of him, and that’s just fucking weird, man. “How-”

“I’m making you hallucinate,” is Cas’ brief explanation. “It occurred to me that this might be easier than what’s essentially talking to yourself.”

“Okay. Whatever. Now what the hell are we s’posed to be talking about? I wanna get outta here and finish my beer.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “Dean, I’m led to believe that one of the innumerable reasons your childhood and upbringing were so difficult was systematic homophobia from society at large and especially your father.”

Dean chokes on his own tongue and he could swear his heart actually stops beating for a couple of seconds. He stares at Cas and starts to sweat, which would admittedly be a lot more gross if his back wasn’t already drenched in fucking wing oil.

“Okay, I’m done. Tell Gabe to let me the fuck outta here.”

“He’s clearly not going to with the issue left unresolved. And apparently he also doesn’t realize that humans don’t instantly recover from thirty five years of self-loathing just by speaking to someone about it.”

“I’m not gay, Cas!” Dean bellows.

“Yes, I know that, you’re also attracted to women. In fact it seems split approximately sixty-forty in favor of women.” At least Cas looks a little bit uncomfortable - well, he should be, dammit. “Nobody will punish you, Dean. At least not anymore. I know you have an endless list of regrets, but this should never have been one of them.”

“Cas, you don’t fucking get it, okay? It ain’t about punishment or whatever. I gotta work with other hunters sometimes and if Sammy and me need their help to get a case done, to _protect people,_ and they don’t wanna work with me because-”

“Cesar and Jesse. Charlie Bradbury. Max Banes.” Cas shakes his head slightly. “There are others as well, some who refuse to admit to it. And Lee Webb, of course.”

Dean flinches at that one. “How the fuck do you know about that?”

His friend looks sad, but not guilty. “Dean, I reassembled you at the cellular level when I raised you out of the Pit. There isn’t a single thing about you I don’t already know. And… incidentally, being that this was before I fell and grew a conscience, had I found anything about you terrible or undesirable, believe me when I say I would’ve omitted it from your reconstruction. And I in no way saw fit to do so.”

“You’re telling me you _knew_ I was broken and you just left me that way on purpose?” Dean demands.

“You’re not broken, Dean,” Cas whispers. “I wish there was a way to make you see that. But I will always take you as-is. There are no fundamental aspects to your being that I would ever desire to alter. You know… your capacity for love and compassion knows no bounds, and yet you refuse to allow yourself any of it. You deserve to be loved too.”

“I’m not - unloved,” he argues, even though there are times when he’s not sure that’s true. “Sammy, Mom, Jody. Jack. You, maybe - do angels even love?”

“Gabriel has a very poorly-handled ‘crush’-” Fuck, him and those air quotes! “-on your brother. When Ramiel skewered me I said as much because I was reluctant to die without having done so. Yes, Dean. Not all angels, certainly, but many are capable of love and I’m one of them. How do you think nephilim came to be such an issue that Heaven decided to make a protocol specifically for them? Angels absolutely do love, slightly less than half will choose mates for themselves. We can love each other and we can love human beings. It just tends to be strongly discouraged.”

“Okay, whatever. That ain’t the point.”

“You’re right, it isn’t. Dean, it’s not unreasonable for you to still have issues around Chuck, but whether you like it or not he made you this way and there’s no changing it. You can’t fix it because there’s no problem to be fixed in the first place. Sam is aware of it and loves you regardless. Jack would be indifferent if you explained it to him. And your mother…” Cas pauses, clearly thinking. “Mary isn’t John. She won’t hit you or threaten to disown you. It may take some getting used to on her part but she will.”

“Don’t talk about my dad, Cas.”

“Why not?” The sudden burst of anger catches Dean off-guard. “He’s responsible for a large amount of your trauma, and I don’t understand why an exception was made for him when so many other abusive parents are sent directly to Hell on principle! John may have fathered you, Dean, but he wasn’t your dad. _Bobby Singer_ was. Yet another person on the list who likely knew without being told and was _fine_ with it.” Cas’ expression gets a little softer again after that. “We’re your family and we love you. You’re a much better parent to Jack than John ever was to you.”

“Not at the beginning I wasn’t…”

“Maybe not, but you’ve worked to make up for it since then. So on some level you’re aware that what John did to you was wrong. You don’t need to defend him anymore, and continuing to believe all the awful things he said to you is only punishing yourself for no reason.”

Dean has no idea what to say anymore. He kinda… wants to believe Cas. Yeah, okay, he _really_ wants to believe Cas, but his brain just says “no.” He knows there’s an infamous, horrible word for what he is, it implies cheating and back in the 90s spreading AIDS from gay people to straight people. Who knows, maybe that’s changed by now, Dean doesn’t keep up with that shit really. But that’s what he grew up with. And there was that whole thing with Lee, which ended in the biggest thrashing he ever got from Dad.

So he learned the hard way to never like anything but the idea of women. But Cas wants to uproot that, even though Dean’s pretty sure that by now it’s way too late.

Cas shakes his head slowly. “It’s not too late, Dean. Why should it be too late for you?”

He doesn’t have an answer for that, either. It’s already weird just being able to _see_ Cas, so Dean focuses on that instead, on his friend’s face. Usually he’s so fucking grim, even after falling and experiencing humanity, but right now he just looks sad. But not for himself. He’s sad for Dean, always for Dean, almost everything he’s ever done has been for Dean. Hell, right now he’s hanging out somewhere under Dean’s skin, with no agency over himself except to prop up the dead weight of Dean’s broken body.

And what has Dean even done to earn that? How does he deserve Cas trying to fix him?

It’s a really good hallucination on Cas’ part, actually. Because when Cas steps forward, puts a hand on his shoulder, he even feels it like Cas is actually standing there and touching him.

“You’re missing the point. I think you may be missing the point on purpose.”

“I’m not okay with this.”

That’s not what Dean means to say, but that’s what comes out. But that’s kinda how it always is for him, right? Whenever he’s pissed he always says shit without thinking first. Why should today be different?

“I know you’re not. But now you know, going forward, that there’s no reason why you should have to continue not being okay with it. And in some capacity, I understand why you feel this way.”

“Why, ’cause you’re in my head?”

“Well, yes, that, too, but…” Cas pauses and for a few seconds Dean gets a look at something that happened to him years ago, conversations with Anna about being fallen, her trying to reassure him that it was actually the right choice for him, scrambling everything he thought he knew about himself. And eventually, thanks to encouragement from someone who knew what they were talking about, Cas rebelled against Heaven to try and save Dean from fate. Dean didn’t realize he closed his eyes until now when he opens them again. “I know it’s not entirely the same. But in a sense, it’s still learning to escape brainwashing.”

Cas actually fucking hugs him, now. Dean wants and doesn’t want at the same time to shove him and tell him to back off; in the end he just stands there and lets it happen, but he doesn’t hug back.

“Cas, I really can’t do this now, okay? Can it at least wait a couple weeks until I’m not fucking dying anymore? ’Cause now I’mma just be stuck with this whole damn talk when I got more important shit to worry about.”

“It was a critical oversight on Gabriel’s part. He clearly doesn’t understand that this isn’t something that can be resolved in a ‘reasonable’ time frame.”

Wow. He even does the air-quotes with his hands behind Dean’s back. It’d almost be weirdly adorable if Dean wasn’t so screwed up right now.

* * *

“How did you get out of the dungeon?” Gabriel demands half-jokingly while poking his head into the room.

Castiel does not look at his brother, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on his still nearly bald wing; some hints of down have begun to appear, soft and pale gray around the first tiny developments of brand new flight feathers. Currently he’s using a soft cloth to wipe away most of the oil that his uropygial glands are overproducing in order to facilitate Dean’s comfort.

“Jack.”

“Hmm, no candy bars for him tonight then.”

“Gabriel, please save your pettiness for someone other than a defenseless child,” Castiel snaps, not in the mood for these antics.

_“He ain’t exactly defenseless, Cas…”_

“Emotionally he very much is. Besides, Gabriel should know better and try acting his age at least _some_ of the time.”

“I’m only fourteen billion years old, cut me some slack! I’m still young at heart,” Gabriel smirks.

“Do you want something?” Castiel snarls as he finally looks up. “I’m not interested in you needlessly tormenting me after you already made the morning so difficult and taxing for me _and_ for Dean. So if that’s all you’re here for, please find something else to do, preferably without also taking out your hyper and excessive restlessness on Jack or Sam!”

“Woah!” Now Gabriel’s palms raise in a gesture clearly intended to be placating. In reality, it’s obnoxious. “You know where I was while you and lover boy there were airing out his laundry?”

“No, and I don’t care, either.”

“Well, you should, bro. Because I actually do kinda need your help with something as it turns out.”

“Lovely. Can it possibly wait?”

“Heaven is about to shut down and all the souls will come crashing to earth. It can _totally_ wait.”

_“Is he making shit up?”_

“I doubt it,” Castiel cedes, setting the cloth aside and reflexively tucking his wings to his back while pulling on a clean t-shirt and flannel of Dean’s choice. “What can I possibly do that you can’t, Gabriel? You’re several hundred times more powerful than I am.”

“Yeah, but you actually know stuff about humans, plus you’re more up on Heaven’s politics than I am.”

“I still fail to see how I’d be useful.”

Of all things, Jack arrives to interrupt before Gabriel can answer.

“Uncle Gabe, are you teaching me to fight some more today?”

“Sorry, kid, I got stuff to do.” At least he does seem genuinely apologetic about it. “Maybe tonight when the humans are all conked out.”

“Are you going somewhere?”

“Yeah, I’m Heaven’s new boss.”

“Oh! Can I come, too? I always wondered what it looks like there! And maybe I can help. Also, I’d like to visit my mother.”

That gives Castiel an idea. “It might not be the worst thing to bring him along, Gabriel. Besides, Dean and I have a minor errand to run in Heaven as well, you can bring him to Kelly while we work on it. After the major issues have been resolved, of course.”

 _“Wait, what errand? Why do_ I _have to deal with those winged dickbags?”_

“Just trust me, Dean.”

Gabriel seems somewhere between confused and fed up. “Fine! Let’s make this as needlessly complicated as possible.”

Castiel still isn’t capable of flight at this point and Jack has never been yet, so Gabriel takes hold of their arms in order to fly the four of them himself.

He’s completely unprepared to land in Naomi’s office.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now, cameos! ^_^

“Hello, Castiel.”

“Naomi.” His little brother all but spits the name.

“You certainly made an interesting choice in vessels.”

“It’s temporary.”

“Alright, alright.” Gabriel waves his hands at both of them before fixing his eyes on Naomi. “First of all, no more angel lobotomies. It just doesn’t seem to go well for anybody. Dad’s not around anymore, Mikey’s still boxed and never coming out, so you’re stuck with me. And if we’re gonna be making new angels to keep this place going, they need to be more like him.”

“Chaotic and rebellious? Unrepentant rule-breakers?” Naomi’s obviously horrified by this idea. “Look where he’s gotten us! And there’s only _one_ of him!”

“Yeah, but he actually loves humanity,” Gabriel points out, very helpfully in his opinion. They both seem startled when he says that. “Most of you, especially the tiny handful that’re left, are indifferent or resentful. And I’m gonna be honest, I friggin’ hate that. Because I like humans. They’re goofy and adorable and they invented string cheese. So, if I’m gonna be the boss of this overly-sterile bureaucratic nightmare, I’ll take angels like Cas over angels like you every damn time.”

“I agree with Uncle Gabe,” Jack butts in. “String cheese is a very fun snack.” He looks at Gabriel hopefully. “Can I go see my mother?”

“Sure, she’s over in the K section. I’ll holler when it’s time to leave. Don’t go wandering around anywhere else.”

Jack scurries away happily and Gabriel gets back to the task at hand before Castiel and Naomi can try to kill each other or something. “So! Y’know that stupid throne room Dad has where he used to listen to prayers and plan smitings and stuff? It’s big enough that once we’ve got the first batch of angels we can orient them or whatever in there. Cas, follow me.”

“What exactly is your plan, here?” Castiel demands as they walk up the hallway. “Even Michael wouldn’t have the juice to make new angels!”

“Well, I’m not starting from scratch,” Gabriel explains. “We’re gonna go find some souls and turn them into angels. That’s where you come in, you’re the one being all picky about this shit for me.”

“That’s… actually very clever. Where do we start?”

Time doesn’t flow the same in Heaven as it does on earth, and in fact can be tailored to suit the user’s needs. In this case, Gabriel deliberately slows it to a crawl for himself and his tag-alongs, so that seconds of earth time down below can last them several hours up here. This way they can be sure they won’t still be tied up in Heaven if Lucifer arrives from apocalypse-world. As a bonus, it’s giving Castiel a little bit of space for more feathers to start growing in while they work.

Castiel’s first choice in candidates are humans who were previously involved in religious affairs for obvious reasons. Nuns, priests, deacons, etcetera - it proves surprisingly difficult to filter through and find the ones who fit Castiel’s exacting standards for loyalty, intelligence, and compassion towards humanity. All three criteria must be met, and while Castiel can tell just by glancing at their souls, the problem is that there are just so damn many to sort through.

(There’s also a secret fourth criterion, which Castiel didn’t mention but Gabriel knows beyond any shadow of doubt is also present - they must be absolutely accepting of humans who fall under the “queer” umbrella. It might actually be more rigidly non-negotiable than the others, even. Castiel tends to be extra-opinionated on this topic after meeting Dean in Hell.)

Gabriel gets a laugh out of the fact that not a single former pope qualifies for the job.

* * *

“So angels are really just Heaven’s janitors?” Dean snickers as he walks up the blinding white hallway. Seriously, it’s whiter than a fucking Mr. Clean commercial. He almost wants sunglasses.

_“Some of them are. When everything’s operating normally and there are large numbers of angels, there are functionaries who check on the wellbeing of the souls, there are bureaucrats, there are supervisors. Of course there are also garrisons of warrior-guardians as well, which is where I was before I fell. And the ranking archangel oversees it all. Turn left here.”_

He does, and finds the right hallway in the S section. How the hell are his palms sweating in Heaven? That just seems unfair.

“You sure this is a good idea, Cas?”

_“Yes. You’re brave, Dean. It should be no challenge, and I guarantee he’ll be happy to see you.”_

Dean nods and takes a breath, then heads up the hall, glancing at the nameplates on the doors as they pass by. Why the fuck are there so many Robert Singers. He’s really starting to get the idea that Heaven is designed exactly the right way to inconvenience him as much as fucking possible.

“Last time I saw Bobby was when Crowley tried stuffing his soul back into Hell during the second trial.”

_“Sam and I spoke with him much more recently, he helped us break Metatron free when we were searching for a way to remove the Mark of Cain.”_

“Damn, really?”

_“Yes. At the very least, he’ll be interested to see that you no longer suffer under that curse.”_

It takes way too long to walk up this damn hallway - there are a couple doors that Dean thinks for a second might be the one he’s looking for, but the first one has the wrong death year and the other has the wrong date of birth.

“This is such a pain in the ass,” Dean mutters.

 _“You’re getting close,”_ Cas promises.

Apparently “close” is relative, because it takes another ten minutes for Dean to finally find the right one. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t glad for a chance to see Bobby, the only thing that bothers him is that Cas is forcing him to come here just to prove a damn point. Dean takes a breath and opens the door.

Dean’s been dead several times, but he only remembers being in Heaven once before, and not the institutional section where angels run everything behind the scenes like the part he was just in. This is a lot different from his Heaven that time that Zacharia was chasing his ass all over the place - it’s still calm and peaceful and all that shit, but these aren’t his memories, so it’s unfamiliar… even though he’s here, too. The little kid version of him, playing catch with Bobby when his dad actually wanted Bobby to do rifle training with him.

“Bobby?”

It takes a second, but Bobby does turn to look at him. The image of nine-year-old Dean dissolves.

“Dean?”

“Yeah. I uh. I came to see you. It was Cas’ idea.” He trips over himself explaining.

Bobby glowers. “Tell me you ain’t dead already, you damn idjit!”

“What? No! Course not,” Dean snorts. Then he grins. “C’mon, you grumpy bastard, I know you wanna.”

Bobby walks up and grabs him. Dean hugs back twice as hard. He refuses to cry, because he ain’t a fucking girl.

“So last I heard you were in some pretty big trouble, boy,” Bobby comments when they’ve let go.

“Yeah, but we got it worked out eventually. Almost ended the world doing it, but it’s us, so how could we _not_ at this point, y’know?” They meander over to a park bench and sit. Dean takes a few minutes to sum up everything him and Sammy and Cas have been through in the last couple years, including Mom coming back and all that weirdness. He finishes up by talking about apocalypse-world and the other Bobby. “He’s pretty awesome, but he ain’t you.”

“Well thanks for bringing me up to speed. It ain’t like I can help from all the way up here, but it’s nice to be kept in the loop,” Bobby chuckles. “Now, I might be dead, but I ain’t stupid, boy. The hell are you stalling for?”

_“Isn’t there an expression about tearing up bands?”_

“No, Cas, that’s not the expression, it’s ‘tearing off a band-aid.’” Bobby stares and Dean hurries to explain. “He’s hitching a ride with me right now, that’s how I got here without being dead. I’m kinda. Um. Dying.”

“Dammit, Dean-”

“Hey, it’s gonna be fine, he’s just holding me together long enough until I can heal on my own, then he’s gonna get back in his own body and shit goes back to normal. It ain’t so bad most’a the time, actually. I wouldn’t even notice him if he didn’t talk.”

 _“Dean! You’re wasting time!”_ Cas snaps. _“Gabriel will be finished at some point and likely want me back for more suggestions!”_

“Shut up, Cas, I told you I wasn’t comfortable with this!”

“Alright, cut the crap, Dean. What’re you here for?” Bobby demands.

Dean leans his forearms on his legs and folds his hands together between his knees. “So um.”

_“A band-aid.”_

“Yeah, Cas, I got it.” Dean takes a breath. “I’mhavingasexualitycrisisorsomeshit.”

Dean looks over in time to see Bobby roll his eyes and snort. “That’s it? You came all the way here to disturb my eternal rest for _that?_ ”

“Apparently,” he groans, directed more at his friend than his surrogate dad. “It wasn’t my idea.”

“You damn fool idjit.”

“Yeah.”

“All the weird shit I seen as a hunter and you think I’m gonna have a problem with you for that? And for a second can you pretend you don’t think I’m a dumbass and didn’t already know? Me and Sam had a bet going how long you’d stay in denial before you finally gave up and slept with Cas. Too bad I kicked it or I prob’ly would’a won, too.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Dean yelps. “And - really, Bobby? _Cas?_ The only time he ever got laid was with a chick!”

_“I wasn’t sexually attracted to April. She preyed on me when I was vulnerable and it was an unfulfilling experience even before she stabbed me in the chest.”_

“Wait, really?”

_“Dean, please try to focus on the matter at hand.”_

“When we get home we’re definitely talking about that some more, Cas.” Dean rubs his face on his palm. “The hell was I saying?”

“You were tryna tell me a swishy wave of light could somehow be straight,” Bobby answers sarcastically.

“Right. Yeah. Bobby, I ain’t sleeping with Cas.”

“Nice to know some things never change. I should’a figured you two idjits still wouldn’t get your shit together by now.”

“Bobby-”

“Son, do you know how many times a day you two would stop dead to stare at each other?”

“…no?”

“Me neither, I lost count after twenty seven.”

“You’re making that up.”

“God’s honest truth.” Bobby holds up a hand as he says it. “The only reason you ain’t doing it right now is him floating around under your skin and you can’t see him at all.”

 _“I don’t think I stare that much,”_ Cas protests.

“Actually he kinda has a point on that one, buddy,” Dean grumbles. “Hey Bobby, if you knew so long, how come you never said anything?”

“I heard somewhere you ain’t supposed to do that. Let your kids figure it out on their own… course you weren’t a kid anymore when I heard that, but still.”

“Don’t you think it would’a been helpful to clue me in, though?” Dean growls. He’s not angry at Bobby so much as he’s angry at _everyone_ over this. “I guess everybody all ‘already knew’ or some shit, didn’t anyone think maybe I would’a liked to know?”

“I ain’t saying it was the right thing to do, Dean. I didn’t know better. If I thought it would’a helped, then yeah, you betcher ass I would’a brought it up. It ain’t like we can go back and try again.”

Before Dean can say something awful he doesn’t really mean like the dumbfuck he is, Jack thankfully pops up out of nowhere to interrupt. “Dean, Cas, Uncle Gabe says we can go home now.” He notices Bobby and waves. “Hello.”

“Bobby, this is Jack.”

“The nephilim that Cas baby-trapped you with?”

Dean chuckles. “Yeah. He’s a great kid.”

Jack’s wings flutter a little bit and the feathers puff up happily when Dean says that. “I’m learning to be an archangel,” he informs Bobby proudly.

“Well ain’t that something.” Bobby slaps Dean’s shoulder once and they both stand up. “You better have a good long talk with Cas when you get back… it’s good seeing you, boy.”

“Yeah, you too, Bobby.” Dean hugs him again.

“And you better not come back here in a hurry, either.”

“I’ll try.”

* * *

_“Are we going to talk about this, Dean?”_

“Cas, we spent _all fucking day_ talking about shit, I just wanna eat,” Dean complains.

Castiel would roll his eyes if he was currently in charge of Dean’s motor functions. _“After you eat, we’re having a discussion.”_

“No, Cas. No we’re not. Because after I eat, I’m taking a god damn shower, and then I need a nap. You can wander around and do whatever the hell it is you do while I’m out.”

 _“I hope you realize you can’t avoid me,”_ Castiel points out. _“I’m currently taking up residence in your body.”_

“Dude, come on. I’m fucking starving and - everything’s been way too much today between seeing all the dead people and getting locked in a room by Gabriel, okay? I’m way over my limit for mundane-crazy. Gimme regular-crazy like a hunt gone wrong or something, at least that I can actually put up with.”

At this, Castiel ultimately decides not to press the issue further, because Dean seems genuinely overwhelmed and not just avoiding the subject like before. He regrets that humans have such a low tolerance for abnormal situations; Dean’s is higher than most, but he still has limits. The fact that Dean, who often refuses to sit still in favor of “going out and finding something to punch,” is about to take a nap in the middle of the day speaks to how far he’s been forced to stretch. It also occurs to Castiel that thanks to the incompatible time flows of Heaven and earth, Dean’s been awake for an entire day despite it only being one in the afternoon.

 _“Would you like nice dreams or no dreams at all?”_ he offers finally as Dean chews on an enormous ham sandwich.

“Dealer’s choice.” Dean takes another bite large enough to choke anyone else, but Castiel senses he has more to say and waits until he swallows again. “Y’know, that’s a nice kinda perk, actually. I’m prob’ly gonna miss it once you’re you again.”

 _“I’ve repeatedly offered to watch over you in your sleep in the past, Dean,”_ Castiel chuckles.

“Yeah, but this is different. I can’t fall asleep when someone’s staring at me. You can’t stare because you don’t have eyes right now.”

_“I could sit at your desk and read.”_

Castiel can feel Dean actually considering that.

“Yeah, maybe. We’ll burn that bridge when we cross it I guess.”

They don’t speak much for several minutes, in large part because Castiel wants to afford Dean the opportunity to finish his absurdly overstuffed sandwich. That aside, he’s also thinking carefully about the events of today. Dean is not going to heal from a lifetime of internalized homophobia in such a short time, but progress has certainly been made. The blame for this situation rests almost entirely on John Winchester, but that’s par for the course when it comes to the man who single-handedly twisted the psyche of a gentle and loving soul into an instrument of death.

Given the chance to do so, Castiel would smite that bastard into oblivion, but unfortunately it isn’t an option. John will never be punished for how he so tormented Dean. So Castiel will settle for the next-best thing, which is to convince Mary to support her son. Dean’s heard the “it’s okay” speech from Castiel and from Bobby, and he’ll inevitably get it from Sam sometime in the near future. But he needs it from his mother as well.

Castiel decides this will be his project while Dean takes a nap.

**Author's Note:**

> Updates are on Fridays.
> 
> My other SPN fics can be found [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Bfandom_ids%5D%5B%5D=27&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Aaron_The_8th_Demon).
> 
> Comments welcome and appreciated.


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